Not the “smile even if it hurts because we are going to enjoy every cent we spent on this darn vacation” kind of fun but the genuine kind. I’m giving you time to let that shock sink in.

Wait you ask? Isn’t vacation supposed to be fun? Well, once upon a time I thought so and then the little people arrived. Vacation went from relaxing to a giant ball of expectations too slippery to capture.

Lucky for me, I’ve learned to check the “E” word at the door. Forget the adorable monogrammed kids with toothy grins; all of those pictures on Facebook are clearly photoshopped. I’ll take my candids and settle for a smirk instead of a scowl.

I’ll never forget dragging baby Lacey to the beach with enough gear to stay the summer. The days of pumping, special pillows, and an assortment of strollers are behind us.

I’m looking at a pack n’ play in my rear view mirror and it feels good. There is the time we forgot to leave space for it in the car. Another time when it fell out onto my foot upon opening the truck. Hmm, maybe that was the same trip. Either way, that sucker is way too heavy for a flip-flopped foot. Then you have the whole setting it up debacle. At home I could whip that bed into place in five minutes flat. On vacation, it suddenly became a source of sweaty tension with gritted teeth spewing words that are better left unsaid.

This year, Reid slept in a bed and ate in a chair. Give that boy a gold star.

Can we talk about the lack of diapers? No counting the days left to see if you can stretch your supply that far. No flimsy swim disposables leaking before you even get to the pool. Thank the Lord for chlorine. I say that as a former lifeguard.

Somewhere among the lack of luggage, we found our fun.

Sure there were the inevitable hiccups. A few Reid pukefests, a blood-gushing seashell in the foot, and a wrong turn to Nowheresville but that rolled off our backs like the veterans that we are.

It was my first Kiawah Island vacation and I was thrilled with how family- friendly everything was. The kids even enjoyed a couple mornings of camp while we sat on the beach. They got to hunt for pirate treasure. And we didn’t have to hunt for pirate treasure. Argh.

Before you judge me, there was plenty of family time. Making waffles and riding bikes and playing in the waves. Eating out and listening to music on the lawn.

Another factor that made a difference this year? The seven day commitment. Y’all, going out of town for a week is a little scary. Missing that much work, eating that many meals away, and packing for seven nights.

We bit the bullet and it really made the trip. All of the unpacking is worth it when you are settling in. Mr. C was able to disconnect from work better than he does on a 3-day deal. We had days that were full but we didn’t have to cram the activities down their throats. We paced ourselves.

And we had fun. The real kind.

-Erin

P.S. In hindsight, the stroller may have been a plus. Mr. Reid goes turtle speed on a good day.

Sometimes this blog gives people the crazy notion that my house is “perfect”. Say what? I dislike the idea of any unattainable, I’ve-got-it-perfectly-together image out there. I’m sure Mr. C would be happy to correct any misconceptions. We all have things that make us tick. For me, it is home decor. Creating. If it makes you feel better, the guest room could be confused with a storage unit. Minus the dead bodies.

If you are looking for flaws, my car looks like someone has been living in it. I’m afraid to dig through my purse for fear of what I might find. For the love of Pete, just don’t let it be sticky. Eventually, I will clean them both out. But the cycle will start over. I’m as predictable as a TV sitcom.

On the flip side, I keep up with the laundry and the dishes and the paper clutter. It is the only way I know to keep my inner slob at bay. She is forced to live in my purse and in the car.

Take #43

Wait, wasn’t this post about jeans?

I’m in a jeans drought. I’ve never, ever been in a jeans drought. My “about me” page says that I love jeans. I’m a recovering jeans-a-holic. I’ve been known to collect them. I have paid big money for fancy jeans and less than $10 for an Old Navy pair. I still wear those by the way.

So, how did I end up with a closet full of worn-out jeans with holes? For starters, I can’t remember the last time I shopped for clothes. I shop for “home” things but recent clothes and accessories purchases have mostly come from Target or Marshall’s because both of those places carry home decor. My socks have holes in them, my bra has been bleached too many times, and my pajamas have chocolate stains.

I’m about five degrees short of a hot mess, y’all.

Mr. C asked me the other day why I haven’t gotten new socks. Um. I guess I don’t pass the sock aisle on the way to the home stuff? In my defense, my kids are well-stocked in socks. Huh.

I’ve managed to stay in style with cardigans and statement necklaces and scarfs and boots. I can mix and match with the best of them. The styling part of home decor carries over to fashion which has kept me relatively in the loop despite my lack of new material.

But I need jeans. And I want good ones. Not too heavy or I’ll feel confined. Lightweight, butt- hugging but comfortable. Not heavily distressed or adorned with a lot of extras. Tough enough for the soccer field but dressy enough for date night. Not so low that I can’t sit in My Gym without flashing the teacher. Eww.

Now that I’ve poured out all of my imperfections, I need your help. What are your favorite jeans? Expensive or cheap, I want to know.

Dear Friends,
Can you believe it has already been three weeks since Reid’s dairy elimination started? Oh, wait, you weren’t counting down like I was? Silly me. In any case, I swear time flies around here. On the one hand it seems like it has been cold, dark and raining for eternity. On the flip side, I’m pretty sure it was just Valentine’s Day. Oops – it might be time to take down those heart decorations.

Everyone was so helpful when I mentioned our plan to stop dairy and eventually gluten. I got great information from you guys which made things much easier to navigate. I mentioned that I didn’t think Reid was dairy-intolerant, but that we were trying that first as suggested by his doctor. I was tempted to skip ahead to the gluten but I followed the “plan” set forth by the specialist. I did pay $300 for that plan so I might as well follow it, right?

Well, he is definitely doing a lot better than he was three weeks ago. Maybe there is some truth to this whole dairy deal. I know that his issue is gluten and we haven’t even eliminated it but I was surprised by the improvement I saw without the casein (milk protein). Reid is still throwing up but switching to almond milk has clearly done great things for his digestion. The vomiting is no longer the extreme projectile force that it was. And the consistency is better. I’ll leave it at that before you lose your lunch. Puke talk is not pretty.

His bruising is not gone but is substantially better. He does still have rashes. And rather extreme melt-downs that seem out of his control. The snoring is better but the bad breath is still there. He has also been having a lot of sleep trouble so I’m hoping this gluten removal will help. Of course, I’d love for the throwing up to cease but that might be a pipe dream. I’ll take what I can get.

Removing the dairy has been a pain but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. The almond milk has saved us. I’d love to be able to use cheese again sparingly because it is great for hiding veggies and other things that he doesn’t tolerate. It would be nice to do a little yogurt too because he will do smoothies with the yogurt in there. I’m hoping we won’t have to leave dairy behind forever.

I also read the book “The Out of Sync Child” which does a good job of breaking down sensory processing disorders. I had put off reading it but finally buckled down. There are many challenges that he doesn’t have which was healthy to realize. Reid’s “sensory issues” are omni-present but he has such areas of strength that it almost balances the scales. The sensory train is like transportation to the unknown because there are so many routes that these disorders take. I’m thankful that Reid has been in therapy for most of his life; our ride may be a little less bumpy as a result.

For now, we go to the doctor, listen to her evaluation, and stop all gluten. I am ready. I’ve got a pantry full of gluten-free items and I’m trashing a lot of other stuff that does not need to be hanging around.

Our family lifestyle has to change in order for this to work. I’m willing to do that. Of course, those two mornings a week that he is in school you might see me at the Krispy Kreme drive-thru. Shhhh.

Dear Friends, What a weekend. On Saturday, Mr. C had a huge work event that went exceptionally well after months of planning. My in-laws were in town and that evening we snuck out for a little celebratory date to our favorite restaurant. Things took an unexpected turn when we ended up at the emergency vet with our sweet K.C. on Sunday morning. After a rough night, it was clear that it was her time and we had to say good-bye.

Suddenly, a decade {with us} didn’t seem like enough. But at one month shy of 16 1/2, we are grateful that she lived long enough to pass as a result of her ticking clock rather than an ailment.

She was our first, you know. You could say she trained us for the next phase of life.

She was the first in our family to require surgery.The first to throw up on the rug. And the first to show us unconditional love.

She had her share of scars from an ugly start to life.Her naturally skittish nature made her uncertain of strangers.She didn’t know how to play with toys which tugged on my Mommy heart.If only she had been loved from day one.

But circumstances lead her to doggie rescue and for that we will be forever grateful.

Our K.C. was a booty wagger until her hips protested.She didn’t care much for commands like sit or stay.Walls and doorways were not her friend. Just like her Daddy with depth perception.

Greenies were her kryptonite.Off the leash trail -walks made her giddy.K.C. was the first to bark at the whisper of the wind.A family dog to the very end.

KC lived a full life and we are at peace with her passing. The timing of her death was a gift from above as we were able to tend to her in her final hours while the children stayed at home with Mr. C’s parents. A blessing to see her out just the two of us, just as we began when we picked her up on the way home from our honeymoon all those years ago.

A couple of kids and a six year old dog. Who knew all that life had in store?

Dear Friends, The kindergarten red-shirt is a source of great debate in these parts. If you don’t have school -aged kids, you might be blissfully unaware of the trials a mother goes through with her on-the-cusp summer birthday offspring. Transitional kindergarten has become a popular choice for those kids that may need a little extra time before boarding the bus to big school.

Back in the day, T-K was for kids who couldn’t sit still. Boys that were slow to mature and whose bodies needed to play catch-up. These days? It runs the gamut.

Lacey will not be kindergarten- bound when school starts next week. We are taking our extra year. Why is my mature five year old girl not ready? She gets up on her own in the morning and completes her chores independently. She certainly meets the standards set by the state.

Kindergarten is not what is used to be, folks. It is like sneaky first grade wrapped in shiny kindergarten paper. Naps? A thing of the past. Half day? Not in these parts. Kindergarten used to be the year where you learned the ropes for school. Now? It is school.

The bus rumbles through at 6:45, five days a week. I’m not sure we will ever be ready for that but at barely five it seems borderline barbarian. Of course, Lacey is not an early riser by nature. I’m afraid she comes by that honestly.

Length of school day is a deciding factor. Our easygoing girl was an emotional, tired mess after pre-k last year. Four hours, four days a week wore her out. I honestly can’t imagine her exhaustion level after five consecutive seven- hour days. I’d rather not find out.

Socially, Lacey does just fine. She has plenty of friends but she tends to be a follower. Do I think an extra year will change that? Probably not. She is not going to become a leader if it isn’t her nature; however, this extra year may give her the confidence she needs to make good decisions in the future.

Won’t she be bored? After all, she is a smart little cookie. I hear that question a lot. After attending our T-K open house I can assure you that boredom is the least of my concerns. They have more extracurriculars than an assisted living facility. She will get playground time every day because developing those gross motor skills is just as important as training the mind. The curriculum is challenging while keeping the focus on skill-building. When kindergarten comes calling, she will be ultra- prepared but not over- prepared.

The tipping point? Lacey’s teachers recommended it. She is mature. She isn’t hyper. She is obedient. But she has a wandering mind and lacks focus. Insert cough here. I can take the credit for the hamster wheel that is her brain. Like the seeds of a blackberry, every gift has drawbacks.

The final clincher was the principal’s words on our elementary school tour. “Young ones struggle at first but they usually catch up to their peers by the end of the school year.” Do we really want to start her school career playing catch-up?

It all comes down to the individual child. I have a friend with a barely five year old boy ready to go. An inquisitive little engine that could who never needs a nap; he can hang with the big boys and sit still in the circle. She is sending him with the encouragement of his previous teacher. I say, “bravo” because he is ready.

My advice? Pray about it. Check your ego at the door. An extra year does not mean your child is any less gifted than anyone else.

Deep down I knew that we just weren’t there yet. Now that next week is go-time, I’m sure we are making the right choice. My Mommy gut got it right this time.

A bonus? An extra year with Lacey here under our roof. Because time flies when you are having fun.

Dear Friends, As I sit down at my computer to write, there is a television murmuring in the distance. Mr. C loves the background noise of the big black box but I prefer quiet. The only exception comes once every four years. The summer Olympics are a staple in our home.

In Beijing, Lacey was a baby on our laps, probably overstimulated by the sudden and constant hum of the TV. I remember her clapping her hands and snuggling up with us.

I wish I could remember more.

Now, she is five. A person. School aged. She no longer sucks her fingers. She no longer has a mullet. Her excitement for the games is palpable. Swimming? Yes, please! Gymnastics? What little girl dreams are made of.

Four years ago, our family did not include Reid. If we could rewind, it would seem strangely silent in the tall brick house at the bottom of the hill. Whether crying or babbling, talking to himself or anyone else, life has not been quiet since the day he was bor n.

The boy is over a year older than Lacey was when Michael Phelps was a gold medal machine. His interest in the Olympics right now is limited to bike crashes and basketball. The Games are usurped by excavators and payloaders which consume his every waking thought.

Blogs weren’t on my radar in 2008. I wasn’t scrolling my iPhone or downloading apps. I didn’t even have an iTunes account. As Shawn Johnson tamed the balance beam, I juggled first steps and baby-proofing. While the swing music played on.

And on and on.

Nursing timetables are a distant memory; school now governs our life. We are slowly adding sports as we attempt to juggle family and faith in the disciplined days to come. Our future looks scheduled.

We traded the big two-story for a craftsman looker. Our bring-home-the-baby memories will trump the many fallen trees and leaky roof. Will we reside here in four more years when Brazil beckons and London is but a distant memory?

Time will only tell.

In 2016, Lacey will be nine and on the cusp of tween-dom. All kinds of tall and eyeing my shoes I’m sure. Reid will be six; his chubby legs will likely be more string bean than sausage. The round cheeks that twist my heart-strings may dwindle. But they’ll still be kissable.

I don’t know where I’ll be? Designing? Writing? Blogging?

Your guess is as good as mine.

But I know I’ll still be Mommy. That is one thing I’m sure of.

*****

How about you? Do you play the “four years ago” game like we do? Does 2016 seem a lifetime away?

Dear Friends, It’s official. I have been married for a decade. I’m cool with that but I’m just not sure where all those years went. The first five are memorable. The last five? A bit of a blur. Two moves and two kids might play a role.

It is so fuzzy you would think it was 30+ years ago.

To celebrate we escaped the children and hopped on a jet plane to Maine. We hadn’t had an official “trip” since Lacey was two. We almost bailed at the first of the month. We made the plans in January but it suddenly seemed too difficult. Too tough to leave work for Mr. C. Too scary to leave the kids for me. Too sandwiched in between other summer travel and obligations. Too many what-ifs.

But we came to our senses.

The kids spent two nights with my parents and two nights with Mr. C’s parents and everyone stayed here in Charlotte. Dividing the time ensures that nobody gets overwhelmed. The two little people plus an aging dog with bladder issues are a lot to leave behind.

This is the post where I talk about our anniversary. Mr. C & I needed that time. That irreplaceable one- on- one slice of sanity. Mr. C is a good man. Solid, with a moral compass the size of Texas. And a sense of humor as juvenile as mine.

But dealing with me at the end of the day can be like fishing in a dry creek-bed. My energy and humor have dwindled to an unmeasurable trickle.

We needed time to just be. To soak up what makes us work so well. That bottom line that makes us giddy.

Oh, And traveling without children? It has been awhile.

The airport? A cinch. If Mr. C wants to fumble with his belt and shoes it’s no skin off my back. I’m not trying to get myself and two kids plus a stroller through security. Ahem.

The drive? Oh, there is traffic. Oh well. More time to listen to the radio. No white knuckles necessary.

Dinner? There is a wait? Lovely. We’ll take our buzzer to the bench by the bay. That sure beats our usual eyes-only conversation that involves an I-told-you-so. Because I’m a little slow, you know.

At the beginning of the year, I was polling friends on destinations. Aruba, Jamaica, and Puerto Rico were popular suggestions. The escape to an island resort was tempting. But it just isn’t what either of us was really looking for. Consuming a novel by a pool with an umbrella drink should be nirvana. But I was envisioning myself reading on a big porch in a small town. With an iced coffee. Walking to get dinner.

You can talk soul-mates all day long when your teen years are only an exit back in the rear-view mirror. It is romance personified. I mean, we just “got” each other, you know? At thirty-something, it seems a little more abstract. A soul-mate might look more like a figure washing dishes than someone who gets me.

I needed the reminder that Mr. C is my soul-mate. Because what other man would be as happy as I was to tour random towns in New England? Our days were filled with wandering, relaxing and restaurant seeking. Added bonuses? A decent dessert, and down-time.

Work peeked through here and there. But I’ve come to expect that. I even took care of a little blog business to pass the time.

The best part? We spent two nights at a B& B. Told you Mr. C was my soul-mate. It was something out of Gilmore Girls. A years worth of funny. Whenever I need a good laugh, I can think back to our bumbling host.

Ten years is a long time. I’ll raise you ten more, Mr. C. I like them odds.

I’ve never considered myself to be that party mom. You know, the one who throws ridiculously elaborate event-like soirees for her child. I wouldn’t mind being the creative mom or the artsy mom or even the sporty mom. But the party mom? No, thanks. I’ll happily attend but leave that to someone else.

In March, for Reid’s second birthday I felt a teensy bit like a party-obsessed woman had taken over my body. For some reason, I was feeling the need to make his big day perfectly handmade. And Martha Stewart like. I think that reason might have started with a P. That Pinteresting word can turn the average mom into movie fodder. You know, the maniacal bridezilla or the teetering on the edge event planner. In this case? Mom gone overboard drowning in fabric and craft supplies. Not to mention sprinkles.

After stressing over Reid’s, FAMILY party I decided I was done partying for others. No more blogging about parties. I took up residence at guilt central because the whole thing was supposed to be about him.

And it wasn’t.

We all have different passions in life. I have a couple of friends who shine when it comes time to party plan. They coordinate and plan, bake, create, and decorate. You can see the JOY weaved in.

But that is not me. And Pinterest can be our best friend or our worst enemy. Because we all have different gifts and talents. It doesn’t mean we can’t try the awesome recipe or make the fabric garland.

But we don’t have to. Because it is okay to go to the party store.

Well, as you may well know from Facebook, Lacey just turned five. And we had a party. It was her very first party with friends. I wanted to do My Gym or the dance place. But noooo, Lacey wanted a party at home.

We couldn’t have a party at home! I had just retired from planning parties.

Coincidentally, her school had an inflatable water slide to celebrate the arrival of summer. And Lacey LOVED it. This is a girl who is not a gusher. But she gushed. For days.

So, we decided to have an inflatable water slide in the backyard for her first birthday party with friends.

Over-the-top? That is the question. I never saw myself as the type to rent a bounce house or procure a petting zoo. I like my donkeys of the pin-the-tail variety. But the water slide did me in.

Appropriate or not, the water slide party will go down as one of Lacey’s favorite childhood events. I didn’t stress over the details like a nutcase. We went really cheap on decor. And I kept the focus on her. Her very first party was a huge success.

My own personal tug-of-war over being the party-mom? A gargantuan waste of time like most of what flits in and out of my brain. But I learned one thing. Keep the party motivation blog-free.

Lacey’s party is currently taking up space in my draft box. Because it ended up being sweet & summery with minimal effort. So, the pictures were taken and the post will be written. But the intent is different which gives me the green light.

Next year we might take a couple of friends to the movies. It will be a while before we do another big bash. Of course, movie tickets might cost more than the water slide. Go figure.

Dear Friends, I am honored to be a hostess for the Gathered Thoughts party at LoveFeast Table today. Be sure to visit for inspiration overload and a very special giveaway.

Writing for a prompt reminds me of the five paragraph essay that I spent eons perfecting in school. Don’t worry – I’ll spare you the formulaic composition. I don’t draw from the writing well very often but I feel compelled to dig deep from time to time.

As my readers know, 2012 is the year where I am stepping out of my comfort zone. I was the bird who hadn’t even left the cozy walls of the nest yet. The one who needed a swift nudge from Mama. The creature perfectly content with defined and understood boundaries.

Embracing Comfort

I knew that in order to fly I had to embrace discomfort. But first I have to become comfortable with where I am now. This year after returning from Blissdom, I felt a little intoxicated by information. Heady and not so sure of my course. But like all things, with time I’ve gained a little perspective.

Things I’m choosing to be comfortable with:

It’s okay that my blog is not a business. I think I’m to the point where it could be. But I’m not ready. And right now I need it to be a hobby. I’ve got a lot of obligations as a wife, mom and friend that I can’t seem to fulfill if blogging starts bleeding into areas where it shouldn’t.

It’s okay that my blog is not a faith blog. I’m a Believer and I’ve wrestled with this because I’m drawn to many religious blogs that manage to weave it all together so beautifully. Maybe my way to share His message is here and there in the creekbed of the unexpected; Hidden amongst the catalogs and the room makeovers. Inspiration comes in many forms.

It’s okay to want to be successful at this. As a stay-at-home mom, I struggle with guilt about the blogging hobby from time to time. In the last year, I’ve because more purposeful and more organized with my time to make it happen. My children have reaped the benefits. My home is more efficient.

It’s okay if people I know read it. Even if I prefer strangers. And this is where it gets hard for me. I am just not a bare it all kind of girl. Playboy is not in my future. I like to keep my cover-up on until my toes hit the surf.

It’s okay that I’m not a designer. My rooms probably won’t be as good as Layla’s. But I have this belief that they can be. That I have the right ingredients. I need more tools and more baking time. A little mixing and maybe a chance to rise. To the occasion.

Embracing Discomfort

It’s okay to take chances. Try new things. I just applied to BlogHer. I’ve been thinking about it for over a year. Like the About Me page, I finally took the plunge. I plan to write a little more, explore topics that are meaningful to me. I am embracing the framework that got me started but pushing the walls of the bubble to expand my place here. I’m facing my Facebook fears and updating my page more often. Another post for another day: Facebook Anxiety Examined. Sounds like sweeps-worthy substance for the local news.

My bird has not flown South yet but lucky for me it was a mild winter. Should the branch she is standing on snap, I think she could warble a few notes even if a bit off-key.

Yesterday, when I heard the hymn, “His Eye is on the Sparrow” I knew it was the perfect accompaniment to my quote. I wanted to include a youtube version but I wasn’t sure about copyright. So a Pinterest board was born. I knew home decor would find its way into this post.

The biggest challenge for me in writing a blog is to really put myself out there. I don’t have an “about me” page as you may have noticed. Letting my authentic self show through is just not easy because I keep my cards close to the chest. I’m one of those people that never posts updates on my personal Facebook page. In fact, my blog is not even listed anywhere on it. When Shaunna from Perfectly Imperfect announced a “25 Things”{About Me} Link Party I immediately thought, “Thanks but no thanks.” I’m a person who likes reading about other people but I detest writing about myself. It seems upon further thought that this was the perfect pre-cursor to an About Me page.

I’ve thrown caution to the wind but just so you know I’m running for the hills right about now.

TWENTY-FIVE THINGS {About Me}

1. I have a love affair with catalogs. And fancy jeans with Target tops.

2. I am a designer wannabe. I lack expertise but am a crockpot of potential.

3. I am a glass half full kind of girl. That glass is half full of sweet tea. It’s my vice.

4. Don’t overload me or my motherboard will fry. Seriously.

5. I like stripes. Of all kinds. On all things.

6. You might think I’m quiet. I’m really just listening.

7. I’m woefully undecided.

8. I’m self- aware to a fault; however, people who lack self-awareness rattle me.

9. Practicality is my mother-ship.

10. If this were kindergarten, I would be labelled “most distracted.”

11. I ponder. A lot.

12. I’m a firm Believer, just not the shouting it from the rooftops kind.

13. Sharing a meal with a friend is the icing on my cake.

14. My love for food rivals my love for my family. Just ask Mr. C.

15. I once had a 14 lb tumor. That is always a good icebreaker.

16. I’m not Type A. I might be Type A-.

17. I ignore things until I have to deal with them. It is the procrastinator’s way.

18. Sometimes I feel like a dichotomy. Case in point, I’m a goody two-shoes who enjoys cynicism and all things snarky. An empathetic, daydreaming, peacemaking Conservative.

19.If there is a short-cut method I’ve probably already thought of it.

20. Social media can seem too demanding. It makes me tired.

21. I like special things on Fridays. Like sugar cereal. And a free pass from flossing.

22. Kettle corn makes me giddy. Dipping sauces get me tickled pink.

23. Somehow in my adult life I have found myself at the same lunch table as the cool kids; it unsettles me.